


Dealing with the Consequences

by Fenchurch87



Series: Tales of Kirkwall (and Beyond) [16]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Guilt, Love, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 05:30:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15478689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenchurch87/pseuds/Fenchurch87
Summary: Shortly after leaving Kirkwall, Marian Hawke and Anders struggle to cope with the aftermath of the Chantry explosion. Originally written in response to a writing prompt on /r/dragonage.





	Dealing with the Consequences

_Fear, pain, and death._

He walks through Hightown, the screams of the dying echoing in his ears. He tries to close his nostrils against the smell, a sickening stench of blood and burning flesh that turns his stomach. He wants to stop, to turn around, to run away as fast as he can. But he cannot; his legs continue moving of their own accord, driving him inexorably onwards into the heart of the destruction.

The dead line the streets. They stare at him, their empty eyes accusing. _I'm sorry_ , he tries to say. _I never wanted this. Please make it stop. Please._ He opens his mouth, but the words do not come, and another voice deep inside him drowns them out. He tries desperately to quieten it, to smother it, but the voice is too strong, and it escapes him in a deafening roar. _This is justice!_

_Fear, pain, and death._

The smell intensifies, and he starts to taste bile in the back of his throat as he walks on towards the Chantry. The crowds of corpses are thicker here, and they are no longer content to condemn him with their eyes. _Murderer! Abomination!_ The shouts follow him, and he hunches his shoulders against the onslaught.

He has almost reached his destination. Again, he tries to stop and turn back, but his feet force him on. The ruined Chantry appears in front of him. _No!_ He tries to close his eyes, but something is holding them open, the same something that is stopping him from looking away.

Hawke's cold, dead eyes stare back at him, as rivers of blood run down her once beautiful face. _No!_ He falls to his knees, and screams.

*****

“Shhh. It's okay, my love. It's alright. It's just a nightmare.”

Her voice brings him back, as it always does. His screams subside, and for one brief, beautiful moment, he feels only joy and relief. He is home, and she is lying beside him. _She is alive._ But then the guilt returns, bearing down on him, crushing him, and it is all he can do not to break under the weight of it. A sob escapes from deep within his chest, followed by another. And another. She holds him in her arms and murmurs comforting words, slowly calming him.

“Hawke?” he whispers when he can talk again.

“Yes, my love?”

“Why are you still here?” he asks. “Why haven't you left me?” He feels her tense beside him and hears a sharp intake of breath. He knows he is hurting her, and he hates himself for it, but he has to say this. He has to make her see. “This can't be what you want. You should go back to Kirkwall. You're still the Champion, and all your friends are there. And the estate. You could have a real life there. Not like this.”

“I don't want to go back to Kirkwall.” She replies in her most stubborn voice, and he realises that he has no hope of changing her mind. Not now, not ever. “My life is here. With you.” She brushes his cheek with her fingertips, gently wiping away his remaining tears.

“I'm not the man you fell in love with anymore.”

“I still see him sometimes. You laughed today. When I told that terrible Templar joke. Do you remember?”

A smile appears on his lips, unbidden. “I remember. I thought that joke was funny.”

“You see?” He feels her arms tighten around him. “He's still in there. You're still in there. And I'm never leaving you. I just need to find a way to bring you out again.”

Her green eyes seem to shine in the candlelight. She brushes her hair back from her face, and he watches it fall in red waves across the pillows. He thinks she has never looked so beautiful.

“I don't deserve your love,” he says.

“Well, you have it,” she replies, placing a tender kiss on his forehead.

Her words stir another wave of emotion. “Thank you” is all he manages to say before he starts to weep again, tears of gratitude this time. She strokes his hair and whispers that she loves him, that she will always love him. Her soft voice and warm arms are soothing, and he slowly relaxes and lets them lull him into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

 


End file.
